So
by Willow Fireheart
Summary: After his visit to pseudoEarth John is having trouble sleeping. Perhaps a late night conversation with a dark haired ex Peacekeeper is just what the doctor ordered.


**So…**

Spoilers- S1 A Human Reaction  
Disclaimer- I own none of the characters, settings or concepts; but if they come up for sale I put dibs on Pilot!  
Note- Woohoo! My first published Farscape fic (I was recently drawn back to the Farscape side after being discouraged by Channel 9).  
xxx

John Crichton, the only human in the Uncharted Territories had a problem. He couldn't sleep. John sighed and rolled over onto his left side, pulling the golden sheet over his shoulder. This only lasted a few minutes.

John rolled onto his back, pulling the sheet down under his arms. He crossed his arms over his chest, the silken material bunching under his fingers.

He rolled onto his right side, once again pulling the covers up over his shoulder. Then rolled back onto his left, securing the sheet under his arm. He bounced his head on the pillow a few times before grabbing it and squishing it into a better shape.

Finally he growled and rolled back onto his back, kicking the sheet to the end of the bed. He sat up and rubbed a hand roughly over his face. Tossing and turning all night wasn't going to help. Nothing was going to help.

He had been so close, and yet, so far.

It had almost been real.

Earth.

Home.

But yet again it was the universe frelling with John Crichton's brain.

"Frell!" John swung his legs around and pushed himself to his feet.

He reached out and snatched a pair of pants off the floor, pulling them on roughly. He couldn't stay here right now. The room was too small, too suffocating. He needed out.

xxxxx

John wandered the halls of Moya. Somehow Pilot had been able to dredge up something that was as close to a baseball as he was ever going to get in the Uncharted Territories, how he got it John wasn't sure he wanted to know, and now John tossed it from hand to hand as he walked.

He avoided the personal chambers of his friends, knowing that if Zhaan heard him she was likely to try and part with some of that Delvian mystic goddess crap. And he really didn't need that right now. D'Argo on the other hand would just do that Luxan tongue thing and knock him out. Sparky would bitch and complain about him interrupting his dreams of his former life, and Aeryn…

John smiled bitterly. There it was. After what happen Aeryn would probably break his legs or something. That look she gave him when they got back onto Moya. It was barely a glance before she was called away by Pilot. Since then she had been avoiding him. Not that that was particularly hard right now since he was dividing his time between the Farscape module and his room, eating only when he remembered or when some of the DRDs brought him food cubes.

God, this just… sucked.

John slowed as he reached the dining room/ kitchen. The lights were on. Pilot usually dimmed the lights when everyone was sleeping, something about conserving Moya's energy.

Cautiously, John poked his head around the corner.

"Aw, damn."

Aeryn sat at the table, one of the pulse riffles dismantled on the table in front of her. For a second John scowled as he saw that once again Aeryn had stolen his boxer shorts. Weren't his. Huh! Didn't they have brand names out here?

Suddenly, Aeryn looked up, catching his eye. Her eyebrow rose slightly and the corners of her lips tipped up as she titled her head.

John chose to take this as an invitation and sidled into the room. He stopped in the centre of the room and shifted awkwardly.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Hey."

Aeryn glanced at him over the parts of her gun. "Hey."

John smiled reluctantly. "Never should have taught you that."

"Perhaps not."

John cleared his throat. "So…"

"So what?" Aeryn industriously rubbed an oil-soaked rag over the casing of the gun.

"Usually, when a person says so it means that they what the other person to initiate conversation, or to break the tension in the room." He made his way over the table and sat across from Aeryn.

"Which was this?"

John shrugged. "A little of both."

For a few minutes he watched Aeryn's capable hands select parts and clean them before setting them aside and picking another piece. He ran a thumb over his lips thoughtfully.

"I think we should talk." John blinked in surprise. He hadn't meant to say anything, but as usual his mouth opened of its own violation and out it spilled.

"About?"

Oh well, he opened his mouth. May as well plunge on with it now. "About what happened on 'Earth'."

Aeryn sighed and put down her gun. "Crichton… John, I- this isn't something I feel-"

"Not that! Not that it wasn't- Or that I didn't- I mean after."

"Ah." Aeryn picked up her rag. "You pulled a gun on me."

"I didn't- I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm not." Aeryn grinned at the confused expression on John's face. "The Uncharted Territories are a difficult place to live. You've seen what we have to face out here. Nothing is as it seems, and many people have lost their lives as a result. It is good to know you will not be one of them."

"Oh," John tightened his lips. "So, we're," he waved a hand between them, "okay?"

Aeryn nodded. "As we ever were, Crichton."

"Why does that not reassure me?"

Aeryn smirked. "Perhaps because you are smarter than you look?"

John studied her for a second. A slow grin spread over his lips.

"Yeah, we're okay."

xxx

end.


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